Ghosts
by rodomontading
Summary: "Max," Capable began quietly. The name felt unfamiliar on her lips. "Do you believe in ghosts?"


"Max," Capable began quietly. The name felt unfamiliar on her lips. "Do you believe in ghosts?"

They were almost to the Citadel now. Max was driving, Toast having relinquished the wheel after they'd stopped to remove Joe's body from inside the car. She and the others-the Dag, Cheedo, Corpse, and the raggedly breathing Furiosa-occupied the back of the car. Furiosa was out of immediate danger, and everyone was catching some much-needed sleep. All except Max. And Capable.

The Road Warrior had told them he would drive, they should sleep, and Capable had seen in his jumpy eyes what he wouldn't say aloud-that he was too worried for Furiosa to get any sleep at all. He was no longer giving her blood, but the line was near at hand, just in case. As he drove, Capable eyed the stained, bloody cloth he'd tied over the spot in his arm, wondered at how he could possibly be strong enough to drive. He had lost a lot of blood these past few days. She had climbed up into the passenger seat when Corpse had moved to the back, and Max had looked at her before cranking the ignition and starting back on the road. There was blood smeared on his front from when he'd tied Joe's body to the hood.

"You should sleep," he'd said after a long pause. He always looked surprised after he said something, as if he hadn't been certain that he could actually speak.

"I can't," she'd whispered, and he'd grunted and let it go.

Capable was afraid to sleep. She was afraid that when she closed her eyes, she would see Nux's face, stricken, being lost to the flames. _A War Boy at the end of his half-life_ , that was how she'd described him. She hoped whatever life he lived now was happy for him. She hoped whatever Valhalla he'd found was nothing like the one Immortan Joe had described. But just because she hoped him at peace didn't mean that he was. And she feared that he would come to her in her dreams, angry and wreathed in fire, and blame her. He'd asked her to witness him. Had she? Was she still?

She knew about ghost stories. They had told them to each other sometimes, huddled together in the Vault and listening to the wind outside. The Dag had been the best at telling them, and she would lean close to the candle, her voice low and growling, her eyes wild and fierce. And then she would leap at one of them-usually Cheedo-and make them all shriek with fear and then with laughter. Capable wondered if any of them were true. If ghosts were real. She looked over at Max, who drove with one hand on the wheel, his face unreadable. He looked like a man who knew a thing or two about ghosts. So she asked him.

He didn't look at her, but she knew he'd heard. He made a noise in his throat, something between his usual grunt and a humming sound. Capable took that as a yes, and she nodded. She let her eyes skim over the wrapped lump that was Joe's body before turning to look out the window.

"He won't come back," Max said.

She turned, surprised, her blanket slipping off her shoulders. "I know," she replied, confused.

"Mm-mm," Max grunted. He wagged a finger, shook his head. "Not him," he said, pointing out the windshield.

Capable inhaled. "Oh."

Max grunted again, obviously uncomfortable.

"I thought…" Capable chewed at her bottom lip. "I thought you believed in ghosts."

"Not out there," Max replied, nodding out the windshield. He turned to look at her then, for so long that Capable began to fear the car would crash. But she couldn't look away from him to keep an eye on the road. Max had never met her eyes before, and she knew why. She could see them there, the people Max carried, the madness that still lay dormant within him. The Dag had said she thought he wasn't insane anymore, but that wasn't true. Capable, looking at him, thought the Road Warrior would always be a little insane. Whatever-whoever-had its grip on him wouldn't let go that easily. They would always be there, waiting. He turned away, and she blinked, as if coming out of a trance.

"In here," he murmured, and tapped the side of his head. "They're in here."

She turned to look out the window again. Through the windshield, she could see the Citadel rising in the distance. It wouldn't be much longer now. The others in the back were starting to stir. She turned, looked over all of them, the Dag clutching the Keeper's bag to her chest like a child. Even Furiosa's sleep looked peaceful now. Capable reached out, touched the Imperator's forehead. It was warm but not feverish. She settled back into her seat.

"She'll be okay," she said to Max.

He hummed in reply. Then, several minutes later, he said, "He was a good kid."

Capable smiled over at him, and when he looked over at her, the corner of his mouth was turned up in the tiniest of grins. His eyes twinkled. He turned back to the road, and she to the window. She rested her forehead on the glass.

Knew a thing or two about ghosts, indeed.


End file.
